On the Air with Voldemort
by jellybean-kitty
Summary: They thought he was dead, that he had perished but they were wrong. Voldemort's back and he's once again trying to take over the wizarding world one viewer and guest star at a time
1. Chapter 1

This was an idea that had been floating around in my head since the last book came out. My friends and I were discussing what would happen to Voldemort prior to reading the book and we concluded that quite clearly he set up his own chat show:D This is the result:P

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry potter.

Prologue 

Voldemort closed his snake like eyes and rubbed his temples as he tried to sedate his anger without the use of spells. How had it come to this? What had happened to make him fall so far? He had once been one of the greatest – no, he would blow his own trumpet and say he had been _the _greatest wizard in all of existence. So how had he ended up here? About as magical as the muggle-made paperweight sitting on his desk and those spells he could still perform were about as powerful as they would be to a squib, which is not at all. Well, that may have the slightest of exaggerations built into it. He could still use his wingardium leviosa like the best of them but the real good spells, like his three curses would never be what they used to.

"Avada Kedavra!" He cried, whipping out his wand and aiming the killing curse at the fly which had landed on his mirror. The effect was so great the fly flitted its wings indignantly and took flight again. Voldemort grumbled incoherently. It wasn't a matter of _where_he'd gone wrong, it was _who_ had gone wrong and that answer was perfectly obvious. Things had gone wrong twenty-five years ago when a boy named Harry Potter had been born into the world and in turn had been the death of him: literally. Even still he loathed the boy – or man as he now was – so much if he had one last ounce of strength left in him he would use it to completely annihilate the boy beyond recognition to even his spouse.

Things just weren't fair. His plan had been flawless if it hadn't been for traitors like that Snape who had led him on believing he could be trusted and at the crucial moment stabbed him in the back with a golden wand. Fool! He had gotten his just deserts in the form of a death which had been perfectly justifiable. And then again Potter had turned up to try and ruin things for him and that cretin had succeeded too!

There was a knock on his door and the familiar voice of Larry, the tech guy, chimed through it. "On in ten, sir!"

The muscles on his face twitched as he listened to the chubby mudblood plod away to inform his guests of their expected air time. It wasn't just Larry. It was everything. He had been so close to overtaking the wizarding world. So close. And now instead of overtaking the Ministry of Magic his new aim in life had to be to overtake the ratings of BBC Wizard's ten o'clock 'Aurors in Action'. To add insult to injury, his slot had only been a half hour in length, not even the full hour that most chat show hosts got to have. One day he would cast doom on them all. Still, he knew that he should be grateful for the vast sum of money he was set to earn just for doing a seven week stint of episodes, during which he would try to get as many followers as possible and then maybe, just maybe, he could find some way to become as respected and revered as he once had been.

With a grim smile, he left his dressing room and walked down the corridor and onto the stage where his audience were already waiting for him.

It was show time.

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jellybean-kitty


	2. Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom

There are things in this which won't make sense and I know that. After all, I would say Voldemort having a chat show at all is the most insane thing ever. Also, just a little warning. These chapters will be short. However, hope you enjoy this.

Disclaimer: I'm afraid I'm not J.K Rowling. Maybe in the next life.  


Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom

Voldemort was well aware that his audience were uncomfortable. After all, he had been the tyrant who'd killed, maimed and controlled people at the drop of a hat. He was aware but he didn't particularly care. He wanted to make money, they wanted their faces to maybe be on TV. Everyone was a winner in a weird roundabout way. Except maybe the guest stars. He was sure to have his fun with some of them. He may not be able to use spells for cruelty but there was nothing wrong with his tongue.

"I'd like to invite Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom into the chair today," Voldemort said with a grimace. He'd done some research on his first guests and none of it was good. As far as he was away, Neville was a renowned herbology teacher – who, incidentally, he'd never heard of – and his friend was an editor for some crackpot magazine. Both of them, he knew, had done a fair amount of exploring in the hopes to find rare and exotic (and in his opinion made up) creatures.

There was applause as a tubby yet professional looking man walked on stage with a mysterious if slightly strange looking woman with long blonde hair tucked behind ears with radish earrings on them.

"Welcome Neville and Luna," Voldemort smiled, looking about as welcoming as a black widow spider. "Please take a seat." Uncertainly, they both sat down on the plush red sofa giving each other nervous glances as if not knowing how exactly they had got themselves into this situation. Voldemort noticed that Neville's left hand didn't leave the pocket of his trouser and guessed he must be keeping one hand on his wand at all times. A good indication of a wizard. It used to be a rule Voldemort himself had been fond of. "Now, I understand that you, Luna, are editor for a magazine. I'm sure the audience is _dying _to know a bit more about it."

Luna's gaze shifted from the ceiling above her to Voldemort, her eyes widening as if she hadn't noticed he was sitting right in front of her. Then, dreamily, she smiled. "The Quibbler used to be my father's magazine until he decided to retire and let me take over. It's dedicated to publishing the truth behind matters. For instance did you know that new aurors in the Ministry of Magic are to given dragon eggs so that they can raise them as sniffer dragons, a practice that has been adopted in South America to sniff out unapproved magic?"

He blinked. "No."

"Or," Luna continued, "that deep in the heart of the Ministry there is a giant blob of pink goo that the Minister himself feeds with the hearts of new born snuffle-plasters so he can be immortal?"

"No."

She smiled airily. "And you would never without help from the Quibbler."

"Obviously not. Can I just ask, what are 'snuffle-plasters', if not something that has been born into existence by your mind and only in your mind?" There was quiet laughter from behind him in the audience and – by strange coincidence – he found himself doing something he hadn't done since he was fourteen years old: he smiled a genuine smile that wasn't out of malice but sheer humor at something which was actually funny.

Luna stuck her nose up in the air haughtily. "Oh, you can laugh, but it was the fluffy snuffle-plasters with the pompom tails that are responsible for your death by sever allergic reaction to their snuffle powder."

Voldemort raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Really? And all this time I thought it was Harry Potter who dealt the final blow. How silly of me. I must have been imagining it. Funny that. Then again I could have sworn he was sporting a pompom tail but at the time I just assumed it was a fashion statement. "

This time the audience burst into a loud, uproar of laughter and Voldemort realised – with great incredulity – that he had just cracked a joke. With an urge that lay deep within him, he turned to his audience with a great (if not slightly creepy) smile and the applause which followed it was immense. There was a feeling inside of him that was familiar yet at the same time strange. It was enjoyment. Enjoyment, but not at the expense of others pain but due to the enjoyment of other people.

"Let's change the subject before we have a riot on stage and we'll be forced to call in snuffle-plaster reinforcements. I've heard that you recently got engaged. Tell us a bit about that."

The smile returned on Luna's face and she slowly raised her hand to reveal an engagement ring which had a stone shaped daisy instead of the traditional wizard diamond which when light was shone upon it would reflect the faces of the two engaged witches onto the heart area of their clothes. "He is the grandson of Newt Scamander. Together, we try to find more magical creatures so that he can create an updates version of his late grandfather's book."

"I think its a match made in heaven, don't you?" He asked the audience who applauded. "And Neville Longbottom. It's true that you're the new herbology teacher at Hogwarts, yes? What made you choose that career path?"

Neville's eyes looked untrustingly at Voldemort's. "I was always good at herbology. The best in my year, as a matter of fact. Even better than Hermione Granger."

"What an achievement. A pure blood wizard being better than a mudblood." The comment was out before he could stop it but once again the audience laughed. "I suppose you could say you were a natural with nature, yes?"

"I suppose you could."

"Fascinating. I've been told you've recently published a book, yes? I think now's the best time to endorse it. You have thirty seconds." Voldemort took out a stopwatch which was conveniently in his pocket at the time and he had a feeling it was one of the camera men who had produced it with a spell. The audience laughed as Neville became flustered and his mouth opened and closed like a fish's. "Twenty seconds."

"Well-well-well it's called 'Herbology: An Insider's Guide to Exotic Plants and their Uses'. It's on sale in every good book store and only costs-"

"Times up."

Neville looked up in fear. "That was never thirty seconds."

"Wasn't it?" Voldemort shrugged. "Either way it sounds like a very interesting book whether you're studying herbology or just like a pretty garden. We're giving a signed copy away at the end of the show so keep your wands ready to enter. Remember, you must be over seventeen to enter and you must have the houseowner's permission." He turned his attention back to Neville. "Are there any dedications to your book?"

"Yes," Neville answered in a tight voice. "My parents. Frank and Alice Longbottom. I think you know them. It was you who ordered their torture into insanity but Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange."

"Couldn't have been. I was sick that day."

He stood up indignantly and made fists out of his hands. "You did order it! It's your fault that they're in St. Mungo's and you know it! You even congratulated that crazy bitch Bellatrix afterwards!"

"Ah," he said, smiling. "Bellatrix. Lovely girl, really, if you take away her tendencies for madness. One of my most faithful henchmen, in fact. Pity she died." Neville was about to say something back but Voldemort cut him off with a smile. "I'm afraid that's all we have time for today. I'd like to thank my guest stars and everyone in the audience. Details of how to enter out competition will be displayed on the screen in just a second. Join me next time when I'll have Ronald and Hermione Weasley on the show. I'll leave you now with the Weird Sisters playing their new single 'You've Cast Your Spell On Me'. I'm Voldemort wishing you a good night."

The applause was rupteous as Voldemort left the stage in the hands of the punk hair girls and he felt good in a way he'd not felt good in years: they loved him.

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jellybean-kitty


	3. Draco and Lucius Malfoy

I had particular fun with this chapter! Hope everyone else does!

Disclaimer: If only...

Draco and Lucius Malfoy 

It had been a surprise. A complete surprise. Well, almost. Last week's premièring show had been a major hit all over the country and he had scored the headlines in almost every newspaper and magazine, except – and no surprise here – the Quibbler which had failed to mention the editor had appeared on the show at all. Voldemort held no contempt at this. The woman was quite clearly insane. Perhaps soon criminally. He had, after all, been criminally insane in the past and knew the signs. Even greater news had been that his ratings had been the highest for any other chat show that week and most programmes excepting Witchenders, Pals and Blue County. He had watched these without much interest after he had learned they'd had higher ratings and couldn't say he was to impressed by them. Soaps, sitcoms and the like didn't hold much interest for him.

The guests for this week sat on his sofa somewhat fearfully as if at any moment he might whip out his wand and vaporise then without so much as a grimace. Voldemort took some pleasure in this. After all the years in the ground, he still had it; the fear factor, as he liked to call it. The very essence of a being that allowed him total control over the other. Fear. It was a very handy thing sometimes. It was the thing that made Larry get him a butterbeer whenever the whim for one should arise, most often in the middle of the night when he had no intention of drinking one but really of watching the fat oaf sweat as he rushed to supply him with one. It was a small form of entertainment but entertainment nonetheless. Except of course the smell of Larry sweat which had a tendency to waft from his underarms but he'd been able to conjure a scent mask whenever he was around. Still that didn't compare to his Avada Kedavra curse.

"Welcome Draco and Lucius," he smiled at his guests, not caring that smiling at them in his way was probably more intimidating than any other facial expression. They offered him weak smiles in return, but probably only because the camera was on them. The father and son obviously hadn't forgotten the torture and emotional stress he had put on them those many years ago. Neither had he. It had been quite enjoyable. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Yes, I'm sure you are," Lucius said with slight sarcasm that always had come hand and hand with Lucius Malfoy.

Voldemort chose to ignore the tone. "And you, young Malfoy. Well, younger anyway," he added, making a point of looking objectively at the receding hairline. "Well the entire world is almost squirming to find out what two of my ex-henchmen are doing since I stepped from the role of evil tyrant. Care to divulge?"

"Well," Draco said, getting into the swing of the interview, "I've recently gotten married to a pure blood witch from the Ministry where we both work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Doesn't that mean you're working underneath a mudblood?" Voldemort asked with a slight smile. The word last week had caused scandal in the best way possible. A lot of muggle-born wizards had wrote to the Ministry claiming that the word wasn't offensive at all and had, in fact, became a fond nickname for themselves.

Draco's face flushed and angry red. "I don't see what your point is!"

"I don't have one. I'm not commenting, merely stating a fact. You shouldn't rise to anger so easily. It could cause severe stress with your wand hand and cause wizarthritis. With you working in law enforcement I think that could be very damaging to any promotional prospects you may have. Then again, given the horror you put Hermione Granger through during my last bid for global domination I wouldn't be in the least surprised if you got demoted instead."

The youngest Malfoy rose to his feet in indignation. "But-but it was under your orders that I did that! You threatened to hurt my family! I had no choice!"

Raising a bony finger to his cheek, Voldemort mimicked confused thought. "Are you sure? My memory is quite accurate and I don't remember asking you to target a Hermione Granger at all."

"You asked me to target Harry Potter's mudblood friend," Draco replied through gritted teeth.

"Ahh," Voldmort said, with a great pretence the audience lapped up like sugar. "_That _request. Yes well I didn't mean Hermione Granger. I mean his other mudblood friend. You must have jumped to conclusions."

"Don't turn this on me you-"

Draco's mouth snapped shut mid sentence and he looked at Voldemort in anger as the legendary wizard put his wand back into the pocket of his robes. "I'm sorry, but this is a family show. We can't have any cursing here."

"What about magical cursing?"

"Strictly prohibited. I don't have the license for Public Cursing for Entertainment Purposes."

"Oh," Draco said with a slight slump of disappointment. "Pity. If your contract gets extended you should look into getting one. I was watching Saturday Night Liveliness and the wizard presenter on that used the levitating spell in a sketch. Got his ratings right up. Incidently, all the most popular shows have them. I know because I'm the one who issues the license." The last part Draco said with a slight smirk which Voltaire noticed with disdain.

"I shall indeed look into it should I continue. Now, Lucius! One of my most favored henchmen. Favored at least until a very fatal slip-up. In fact, a few very fatal slip-ups. What are you doing with yourself at the moment?"

Lucius sneered. "I can't imagine why it is of your interest to know. A few years ago you would have gladly killed me."

Voldemort chuckled. "Lucius, how you jest. A few years ago I would have gladly killed_anyone, _not just you."

Lucius, aware of the audience presence, heaved a great sigh. "Very well. I retired from the Ministry last year and now I spend most of time at home with my wife, occasionally babysitting for Scorpius when Draco needs it."

"Ahhh, Scorpius. Is he like his father?"

"Not at all. Looks wise perhaps. But he has his mother's nature. Not much like a Malfoy at all, actually."

"What a relief," Voldemort muttered audibly.

"We've also invested in a holiday home in Spain."

"Are you aware that that's a favorite retirement for muggles?"

"I don't imagine that muggles have castles on clouds for their retirement homes," Lucius replied indignantly.

"Not imagining always was a problem with you," Voldemort said with a pleasant smile. "I'm sure you won't disagree. You could have been great if you would have taken initiative once in a while. I daresay that we possibly would have won the battle against Potter and his allies. Nevertheless, one shouldn't look back. Looking back all the time will always give you an unpleasant view of your backside."

"I have a question for you. What will you do now that you've been reborn? Meaning after you finish your ridiculous stint as a chat show host. And while we're on the subject, why ever did you choose to pursue this profession? What are you aims?"

"When you used the phrase 'a question', Lucius, I assumed you only meant one. However, I'll answer them all. Now that I'm reborn – and looked much younger, I'm sure I don't need to point out – I'll probably try and live a normal life if its at all possible, which I'm not sure it will be. In answer to your second question, I didn't choose this profession. I was, in fact, contracted into it when I was resurrected. And thirdly, my aim is to fulfill the contract and then go directly to answer number one."

"Why do I not believe you?"

"Because you're a skeptic, cynical old fart and unfortunately that's time up. I'd like to to thank my guests for this evening. They've been great, haven't they? Join me next week for more chat and chaff. Until then, this is the Smashed Pumpkins playing their current number one. Thank you!"

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jellybean-kitty


	4. Ron and Hermione Weasley

I'm still deciding who all the guests will be, but I definitely know who the final two are and also how this will end. Now, for a bit of Ron and Hermione banter: D

Disclaimer: J.K? Jellybean-kitty? Yes, we may share the same first two initials but unfortunately that is the only thing of hers I own:(

Rona and Hermione Weasley

Voldemort couldn't say he was in the least bit intimidated by the dark gaze he was getting from the mudblood who had – for reasons beyond him – agreed to be a guest on his show along with her husband. He had to admit, her looks had improved vastly since he had last seen her. Her hair had been sweeped into a neat French roll and shone with a healthy glow that – as far as he was aware – wasn't magical at all. Muggles had obviously found some natural way to improve their shampoos. Then again, there were rumours that in the pharmaceutical industry they had wizards and witches working. Who could tell? Obviously not Hermione Weasley, who, in her line of work, should have known better.

Aside from her hair, Hermione had also discovered the wonders of make-up and had had no reservations for the studio's make-up wizardry to paint her face with their wands. As a result, she looked quite pretty. The clothes she wore were no longer frumpy but tailored to fit and Voldemort noticed that she had obviously been taking care of her figure too.

Beside her, not being quite so brave as his wife since he looked like he was expecting some one to shout 'surprise' at any moment'and bombard him with killing curses, sat Ron Weasley. He hadn't changed a bit since Voldemort had last seen him apart from he had filled out in places that allowed him to grow into his awkwardness he had had as a teenager. His red hair was still as unkempt and stuck out in all the same places though it was clear some effort (probably at the insistence of his wife) had been made it have been futile. Voldemort's hand went up to his own non-existent mop and decided her had no right to comment.

"Welcome," Voldemort said suddenly and Ron visibly jumped, earning him a scathing look from his wife. Voldemort would just kill to see Monday mornings in that household. Although she was wearing a skirt today, he had the feeling that it was Hermione who wore the trousers. He had always admired that in a woman, especially in his female henchmen. One in particular came to mind; one he had been particularly fond of. Fonder, perhaps, than what he should have allowed himself to be. Then again, sometimes emotions stood in the way. In his years of perfecting himself he had been able to destroy them but after Harry Potter had become a Horcrux of his...He believed that it was Potter who had enforced the compassion and feelings he had begun to feel (privately) before his death. Potter was to blame for everything. In some sneaky way it was probably his fault they didn't have world peace either, not that he particularly desired such a thing. What's life without a bloody war?

Hermione sniffed, her nose sticking slightly in the air as if trying to rise against a bad smell. Voldemort made a mental note to check his aftershave at the break. "Well we are _not _happy to be here, are we Ronald?" Ronald made no indication he heard her but instead kept a fearful eye on Voldemort's wand pocket. "Ronald?" She asked again, elbowing him sharply in the ribs.

"Uh-yes. Delighted," Ron stammered, obviously unaware of the question. In response, Hermione snorted and raised her eyes to the heavens. Theirs was a happy home, Voldemort imagined.

He cleared his throat. "Yes. Well. Jolly good. Let's move on to our chat, shall we? I'll start with you Hermione since etiquette demands that ladies should be first. Am I to understand that you are the first female of any species ever to be made head of the Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry?"

The pride was clearly evident on her face as she smiled. "Yes. I am. The post has traditionally been filled by men since back when females weren't actually allowed in the Ministry. I have never been one for keep traditions. Of course I didn't start at a high. I had to work my way up."

"But at such a young age, that is still an achievement to be proud of. Still, for all those young woman who aspire to be like you, why don't you share with us your story?" Ron groaned and rolled his eyes. This story wasn't new to him, it seemed.

"Well," Hermione began, smiling happily. "I don't suppose you've ever heard of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare?" Voldemort shook his head.

"What about S.P.E.W?" Ron asked helpfully although Hermione gave him a dark look that indicated it wasn't particularly helpful.

"S.P.E.W?" Voldemort repeated. "Yes, I've heard of that."

Hermione forced a smile onto her face. "Anyway, it was an organisation I started up during my fourth year in Hogwarts when I saw the horrific treatment of house elves. After I left Hogwarts I decided that I wanted to continue on with the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare so I concluded that the best way for me to do that would be to join the Ministry of Magic. So I did. I joined the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and from there I was able to gain support-"

"By support she means a pimply nerd who just wanted in her pants," Ron interjected.

"I was able to gain support," she continued, kicking Ron discreetly, "and before long I had been able to pass a few laws that greatly improved the living conditions of elves everywhere, giving them rights no one had ever thought they should have been given."

Voldemort grimaced. "So that was you? I'm sorry, but the idea of a house elf trade union still makes me shudder. The next thing you know giants will be demanding free dental care."

Her eyebrows flew high into the air at such a speed both men thought they might have flew of her face altogether and took off like a rocket. "Some people obviously are too ignorant to look to the future. But I'll continue with my story. I was able to help the elves in the Ministry and before long my efforts had been noticed by the head of department who informed me that the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was going to retire and he had put my name through for the post. Well, obviously I was delighted and didn't expect much to come from it but experience. But I was asked to go for an interview and during it they just offered me the job."

"Did you never consider a job in teaching at Hogwarts? Surely knowledge like yours deserves to be parted with the younger generations?"

A discreet gesture of laying her hand over her relatively flat stomach told Voldemort that she was soon to have a younger generation of her own. "Teaching has never really appealed to me. If I'm to teach anyone, I'd rather it be my own children who I'm sure will come along in due time. Perhaps in around six months."

To his annoyance, Voldemort smiled at the sweetness in that statement. He made a mental note to what every gory film ever created that night to harden him up again. "Is that a roundabout way of saying that you're pregnant?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other and beamed widely. "Yes, Ronald and I are now expecting our first of what we hope to be many."

"We're very excited," Ron added.

"Well isn't that great," Voldemort said to the ever entranced audience. "Let's give them a round of applause." He could see the two of them trying not to blush as they were cheered then decided it was time to let Ron speak out for a little bit. "Ron, I think it's time I interrogated you." Ron's face went an unnatural shade of white which Voldemort found highly amusing and was glad he had used that specific word choice. "What would you describe as your finest hour?"

Hesitantly, he went into his pocket and produced a card. "Have you ever eaten a chocolate frog? Well in them you get these cards, see, that have some great wizard on it. New ones are introduced all the time and, well," He flipped the card over to show Voldemort his picture printed on it. "They made me into one too. I've been collecting these things since I was a kid and I'd never even dreamed that one day they would put my face onto one."

"Why do you think they did that?"

Ron shrugged. "So as not to discriminate against gingers, I think."

Voldemort wondered how on earth this boy had been able to be part of the trio that had brought him down. Surely he must find some sort of inner courage. It was impossible for some one who was considered a hero to be as modest as he was. In fact, it wasn't modesty at all It was just plain low self esteem. But that was understandable. He always had been seen to be living in the shadow of his male counterpart, Harry and now that his wife too was being evermore successful it would be difficult not to think of yourself as beneath everybody in the entire world. A deep feeling of empathy washed over him.

"Don't you think it's because you were one of the heroes who quashed my bid for power? As far as I'm aware, it's only you and Harry who have been given that honour and wasn't it the two of you who made the most significant contribution to bringing me down?" Hermione guffawed and Voldemort ignore it. "I mean, out of everyone I remember battling it's you two that I have a cleared memory of. And your mother who murdered Bellatrix..."

"And good riddance. Bellatrix was an evil, twisted, psychopath-" Hermione stopped her tirade as the studio went dark. Nervously she looked up at Voldemort's whose face was thunder. A heavy wind began to blow in her direction and she felt very real fear.

"Bellatrix may have been evil and yes, she may have been twisted. Both of which are very good and, may I add, common, qualities in woman. She was not, however, a psychopath, insane, looneytunes or whatever else you may call her. Is that clear?!" Hermione nodded quickly, her eyes wide in fear, shock and surprise. After a few seconds the indoor storm died down and everything returned to as normal as things could be with a resurrected tyrannical wizard hosting a chat show with two of his former enemies as invited guests. "I'm glad we have an understanding."

"What's with the defensive on Bellatrix?" Ron questioned. "Did you have feelings for her or something?"

Voldemort gave him a cold hard stare and then replied, "That is neither here nor there. And we're not here to discuss me, we're here to discuss you. If I wanted to talk about myself I'd go on the Oprah show or hire a psychiatrist." Ron's eyebrows raised slightly but he said nothing more on the subject. His feelings for Voldemort were obviously still undecided and he would make no attempt to irritate the great wizard. "I think it's time we called this interview to a close, don't you? Before we all say some things we'll all regret."

Ron looked at his muggle made watch and frowned. "But it's not time up yet."

Closing his eyes in irritation, Voldemort sighed. "Either its the shows time up or yours. Your choice. Either way I get rid of the pair of you, which, I assure you, will be no great loss to any of us."

Flushing a particularly scarlet shade of red, Ron cleared his throat. "I guess there'll be an overload of adverts, huh?"

"You guess right," Voldemort replied.

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jellybean-kitty


	5. Severus Snape

Hey! There's only three more episodes to go after this one! I'm so excited about the last two:D

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Severus Snape 

Snape sat opposite Voldemort looking quite bored by the whole setup. In response to this, Voldemort let his upper lip curl. He never had been a fan of Snape nor the arrogance that could match his own. He was also slightly irritated that Snape was treating the whole affair with his usual blasé attitude. Didn't he know that he was a guest on Britain's most popular show? Didn't he know how high his ratings were and that they had broken viewing records? Didn't he know that he should be privileged? From the yawn that emitted from Snape's mouth he assumed not.

"Severus," Voldemort began, trying to be courteous for his odious guest.

"Tom," Snape replied, slightly sneering.

Voldmort's eyes narrowed. No one called him by that name anymore unless they wanted to be cast into the deepest fires of hell though he assumed Snape had already faced them and by the look of his uncaring composure, he had thought it a bore and not much else. But, really, what didn't bore Severus Snape?

"You look well for some one whose only just been resurrected from death. Tell me, how was hell when you left?"

"I look well because I'm not in my real form. I'm only here for the duration of this little publicity stunt and then I'm going back to my eternal slumber. And believe me, it would have been much kinder to have sent me to hell. Heaven's so dull and dreary-"

"Then surely you're right at home there?"

Snape ignored his comment and continued. "so dull and dreary. Too many people in white when I've never found the colour particularly complimentary to my completion or vastly _unsunny_ disposition."

"Are you positive?" Voldemort enquired innocently. "Becuase I swear with you in this studio its like having a ray of sunshine sitting opposite me."

Snape cocked a bored eyebrow. "I'm sure it is."

Scratching his chin curiously, Voldemort sat back on his chair and observed Snape. "May I ask you a question?"

"Oh. I thought that's what we were here for. I must have been wrong," he replied with a sarcastic smile.

Voldemort chuckled. "Yes. Well, did you invent sarcasm because you've perfected it so well? Surely it must be your first language?"

"Its much better than parseltongue, I assure you. Have you been talking to any more snakes or do you just practise talking to yourself? There's not much of a difference between the two, I assure you."

A nerve on Voldemort's neck twitched uncomfortable as he realised that for once in his entire life he had been beaten in an insult war. The feeling was more uncomfortable and he was quite sure he didn't like it. After this particular show he was going to have a word with the producers. Serious words which may or may not be spells, depending on their replies. He would gladly smite them all and enjoy every moment of it like it was the last moment of joy he would ever feel in his life. Then he would order pizza.

Pushing this thought from his head, he knew that would be tackled with later. Snape was the 'now' and had to be dealt with. Of course the way he would like to deal with him may be frowned upon by viewers with young children watching: to blast him into oblivion. If he was to be the new role model for young witches and wizards everywhere (not his idea nor one which he liked) he couldn't very well have them following his example of their would be an abundance of corpses in every school playground. He would hate to see the lawsuit he would have to face after such an incident occurred. So, with that being a major problem he would have to find some other way to sort Snape out and put him back into his proper place underneath him. Some one had once said to him that words could do so much more harm than physical hurt ever could. Perhaps that would be his answer.

Smiling coyly, he leaned in towards Snape and said, "Tell me, Severus. How's Lily Potter these days? Still choosing James over you?" With delight, he saw the man momentarily lose his composure and it was enough to see he had hit a bull's eye on his nerve. "Or is she her pity finally made her succumb to giving you a chance? Quite the looker, wasn't she? I wouldn't think some one with her beauty would ever even look at some one like you without pity."

He was trembling now and that was a good thing. Voldemort loved to see a man tremble. "Lily was one of my very best friend and indeed one of the only one's I ever had. I won't taint her memory by speaking about her with you." As an afterthought, he added, "And she was also a much better pick than Bellatrix Lestrange."

"That's all depending on one's opinions on what a better pick consists of. But let's move on from this subject before we have a duel on our hands. I want to ask you a question that's on everyone's mind." Snape cocked his head uncertainly and almost dreadingly. "Why is it that your hair is so greasy?" The ex-Hogwart's headmaster did a visible doubletake which made Voldemort wonder if this wasn't what he figured he would be asked, then what was? "There's a great many haircare products for people who have an overdose of oil in their hair like yourself and they don't come at a high price either."

"I would think there are more important things in life than vanity, Voldemort. Such as achieving one's dreams or overthrowing a malicious tryant."

"And for all that I'm sure you were referring to your brief stint as Hogwart's headmaster, yes?"

With anger, Snape quickly replied, "Actually for both accounts there was a referral to you. My dream was to be a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher so that a malicious tyrant like you could be overthrown."

"It must hurt deeply then that it was really Harry Potter who taught the best Defense Against the Dark Arts back when Professor Umbridge tried to rule Hogwarts. The spells which he taught the budding wizards and witched were the ones which stopped me from receiving the prophesy in the Ministry of Magic. Now that I'm pretty much as overthrown as possible, you'll never achieve your dream."

"Considering I'm not going to be bearing this mortal coil for longer than half an hour I knew I wouldn't achieve it anyway. But that's alright because your dream of global domination will never be yours either."

Voldemort let his eyes slide slowly over to Snape. "What would you know about _my _dreams? In actual fact its not longer global domination but..." He smiled. "It's a secret. A secret which the world will not doubt know come the end of this season."

This comment made Snape uneasy and Voldemort could see it in the way his fist clenched on his lap. "What do you mean?"

Shaking his head, mysteriously, Voldemort replied, "I've given away all I will give away for the time being. Speaking of future plans what will yours be now?"

"To rest in peace," Snape glowered at his host. "Why don't you kill me again? You did so well last time."

"Kill you?" Voldemort asked innocently. "Why, I didn't kill you. It must have been my scarily alike twin brother." He chuckled. "Wouldn't you like to stay alive for just a little while longer? You've been a corpse for so long surely your legs will be in need of a little stretch. You could have the opportunity to visit your favourite haunts, so to speak."

"The world now is too bright for me. I preferred it – and I'm ashamed to say it – back when you were a threat. At least then the sun didn't shine all the time and the Dementors could make the rain fall whenever one was around them."

"Yes, the world was a much darker place during my brief reign. And let's face it, its in the dark when your utmost fantasies come true. You dream your sweetest dreams in the dark, you meet the most romantic strangers in the dark and when no one can see your face, you can be who you want to be in the dark."

Snape regarded him oddly. There were things about the Dark Lord even he didn't know, it seemed. "I never pictured you as the hopeless romantic."

"I'm not. The only thing I've ever loved is the dark. It's when I'm most at peace."

"Then I'm sure that would explain why you love everything about it. The Dark Arts, dark chocolate, dark women..." With this he stared fixedly at his ex-master.

"Dark women?" Voldemort asked curiously. "Just who do you mean about that?"

"I'm sure I don't need to say who I mean by that. It's her evil that attracts you, isn't it? The darkness in her heart reflected in you, adopted because of you. I spoke to her more than anyone else perhaps. She trusted me. She told me things, dark fantasies of hers. Her evil was genuine just was her loyalty. But the darkness she lived in? She loved it because it reminded her of you."

A name whispered on Voldemort's lips so quietly no one could hear it apart from those who knew who it was. "I had no idea."

"She was very good at hiding secrets. She was very good at hiding."

"She died for me. She died to stay by my side to the bitter end. I could in her eyes she knew she was going to die but still she marched into battle, determined to fight on for me and for what I believed in. And it was because of me she believed in it too. You have an affection for her too, don't you?"

Snape shrugged. "We were confidantes to a sense. I helped her, she listened to me. She killed some one I made sure it wasn't me to take the blame. I mean her finest hour must have been Sirius Black. I was very much impressed with her after that stunt. Then Molly Weasley had to go and kill her."

"A _Weasley _killed Bellatrix? A _Weasley?"_ He gasped in disgust.

"Didn't you know?"

Voldemort was silent for a few moments, barely even moving at all. Then he broke the silence with a quiet and regretful voice. "I need to have some time to think. Thanks for joining me, Snape."

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jellybean-kitty


	6. George Weasley

Mann, I'm going to miss this once I've finished. I actually enjoy writing the chapters:D There's only two more chapters left and its finished! Woohoo!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

George Weasley

Voldemort raised his eyebrows furtively at the contraption set in front of him, trying to figure out what it was for and why he would ever even want to use something that looked and felt like what would be the produce should some one decide to skin a person. Giving up, he looked up at the grinning face of George Weasley who, despite initial reservations of sitting with the man whose Deatheater had killed his twin, had taken this prime opportunity to advertise some of his latest gizmos from his former co-owned 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes'.

"Alright. You've tricked me. What is this thing?" Voldemort asked, not particularly caring in what the answer might be.

Regardless of this – and for the advertisement purposes, probably – George kept on his merry smile and held it up for all to see. Voldemort felt like explaining the difference between a talk show and the shopping channel but decided to leave it. Having a prankster as an enemy would be unwise. "This, my snake-like friend, are called 'Extendable Ears', and just like the name says, they're ears that extend to the places which human ones can't. Let me give you a demonstration!"

"That's quite alright. I assure you that my mental capacity enables me to make the connection about how they might work," Voltaire said, trying to hold his disdain and annoyance inside of himself for as long as possible. To plan ahead, he had demanded that his assistant ensure there were plenty of pillows to scream into after the show. "They were the things that shot you into the world of commercial success, wasn't it? And, I'm sure you're proud to know, they were also one of the many gimmicks used during my destruction."

George winked. "Of course they were. Pure magic, that's what they are. Wizarding genius at its finest. Trust me, you'll never see a competitor beat us in the sales chart. Well, me I suppose it us now. Funny that. After so many years of flying solo I still always think of my business as a partnership..." His expression changed to one of sombre regret and Voldemort felt like rolling his eyes but refrained. Things like this just irked him. Why couldn't he just get over it? "I thought I wouldn't make it after Fred...you know..."

"Was murdered?" The Dark Lord offered helpfully. "Yes, unfortunate business that. Teenagers, eh? They always rush into things so recklessly thinking they can take on the world."

"I wouldn't exactly call Bellatrix Lestrange 'the world'."

"No? Well I suppose Bellatrix contributes more to global warming than is affected by it. But moving on, why don't you explain some more of your little jokes."

George, never one to waste an opportunity, tossed his long yet groomed red hair and grinned dashingly for the cameras. Voldemort wondered if this particular Weasley (who he was finding wasn't as contemptible as most of them) was married or had a girlfriend. From a lack of a ring and from his great looks Voldemort deduced it was probably the latter unless he was some kind of a playboy. If this was the case, kudos to him. At least he was having some kind of contact with the opposite sex which was more than he could say for himself. Irritatingly enough, Voldemort found himself kind of envious. Had he not turned to the Dark Arts he could be sitting where George Weasley was sitting: good looking, successful and admired by all. At least small graces were being granted to him. In his rebirth he was noticing that some of his handsomeness was returning to fit in with the young-ish age (he was glad of this fact since if he had been reborn at the age he had died that he probably wouldn't have too many years left) he had found himself born into. This was probably a direct result of not having Horcruxes so take away his handsome humanity. Pity, that. If he would have known that creating so many soul dividers would have altered his looks then he might have created fewer of them. Maybe. Probably. No, that was a lie. He wouldn't have changed a thing.

The Weasley boy delved into the briefcase he had brought with him and produced a wooden frame with a man standing on the lower platform of a few stairs. He grinned wickedly up at Voldemort. "This is one for you. It's 'Re-usable Hangman'. I'm sure you know the game. You pick a names or something like it and the other players have to guess it by picking letters. For every letter you get wrong, the man moves closer to the gallows and if you don't spell he, he swings!"

A grin much like George's though frightfully more frightful appeared on his face. "How fantastically fiendish! Is there blood? I can only ever enjoy colour when it's dripping from some one's injuries."

George handed the game to Voldemort. "This is for you. A present or whatever you want to call it." He took a wooden box out from his briefcase and opened it up, portraying a collection of bottles and boxed all marked 'Wonder Witch'. They were all packaged in a colour Voldemort could only describe as violent pink. "These little beauties are from our Wonder Witch range, popular with all teenage brooding witches and have been since their release. Among many of our newest range are our old favorites the love potion and our guaranteed or money back Ten Second Pimple Vanisher."

Voldemort looked at these with mild curiosity and a vague memory of Draco Malfoy using the Pimple formula dawned on his mind and faded again. He thought at the time the boy had been coming our of the closet but it turns out in actual fact he was just caring for teenage acne. He had to admit than even in some cases, the Dark Lord can be mistaken.

"What about your latest range?" Voldemort questioned, trying to move on to a subject that may be interesting, especially if this Weasley had created more products like his hangman game.

His eyes sparkled mischievously. "Good question, Voldy my friend, good question. Stand up for a second and take a look at this." He wasn't all that certain he enjoyed being referred to Voldy but it was much better in comparison to some of the things he had been called in the past so he decided to let it by for now. In compliance, he stood up to look at whatever it was George was trying to conjure with his wand but nothing was there. "Oops. Sorry, but I think they must be out of stock at the moment. Never mind."

Voldemort sat back down again with some annoyance and when he did, a sound so embarrassingly familiar which he thought would never have been produced from him wafted into the air and with it, a very powerful stench. Had he any skin pigments he was sure his face would flare red. He had two choices. Either address the crime directly or ignore it.

"Stand up again, Voldemort and look at your chair!" George yelled raucously in between fits of giggles. Voldemort did so and was surprised to see an odd red cushion sitting right where his rear end had just been. He picked it up distastefully. "That, my former Dark Lord, is an invisible fart cushion, essenced with the aroma of real fart."

Voldemort had to admit he was very impressed by this Weasley's magic. It took some real genius and aptitude to create such clever pranks, tricks and potions. "I have a question for you, where were you during the war? I could have used some one like you and your twin to invent creations that could never be beaten. Think about it, had you joined my side your twin would still be living and you would have been greater than any other witching inventor ever known!"

"That brings me to another product and it involves Fred," George said. "This has been the major focus of my attention since he passed away all those years ago and I've finally perfected it for sale. Get this cuase it might just interest you!" This time he produced an item that much resembled a muggle telephone. "This has been inspired by muggles but advanced by magic. It's the Weasley Brother's Telephone to the After Life. I'll show you how it works. All you need to do it think up some one who has passed on and then dial the letters of their full name. It's as simple as that!" He followed all these directions and with a wink at Voldemort, lifted up the reciever.

"George, I swear God if this is you again I'm going to personally come back and haunt you! I'm with the spirit of a descendant of Fleur here. You know what that means for me. Give me a break!"

"Sorry Fred," George replied. "This is our first public airing. The phones are now ready for sale and I'm giving the world a preview of how they work. Anything to say to the land of the living?"

There was silence from the other end of the receiver for a few seconds. "Yeah, actually. I just want to see that England Quidditch team all the way! And that Bellia Delacour is a sex-"

"Fred this is a family show!" George hissed quickly.

"Oh, sorry. I guess that's something for me to tell you later on. I need to go. She's coming back with oils. Have fun!"

George hung up the phone and smiled charismatically at Voldemort. "How's that for a wizarding invention? And I'm only at the start of my magical career. You can expect many products like it for years to come, so long as you don't rise up again and decide to kill off the other Weasley twin."

"Oh no. My day of Ministry revolting are way past. I'm going to focus my attention on less frivolous things. I don't know what like, but I'm sure I will in due time."

"You could join in with the Ministry and help then to defend against the Dark Arts," George suggested.

Voldemort looked at him like he was insane. "I revel in the Dark Arts. Why would I want to defend against them?" He shook his head and sighed. "Being a Dark Lord these days just isn't what it used to be. God knows what will become of me after this."

"Why don't you pull a Snape and disappear?"

"'Pull a Snape and disappear'?" He repeated thoughtfully. "That would be an idea. However, Snape was only contracted to live for the one episode. I'm contracted to live out the rest of my life starting at whatever age I am now."

"I would say thirty," George said unhelpfully.

"Whatever. I'm doomed to bear this mortal coil until death takes me."

"Aren't we all," his guest said, nodding in mock remorse.

Voldemort turned his fading snake eyes at the un-twinned twin. "You've been a good guest so far and one whom I have enjoyed. I would ike to take this opportunity to remind you that I am slowly regaining my strength each week. In short, don't push your luck."

George saluted. "Aye, aye, sir!"

Choosing to ignore this, Voldemort turned to his audience. "Our time is up now. Join me next week for a mystery guest whose identity I don't even know. Please show your appreciation for some one who has been the best guest so far." There were many whoops and cat calls, too many for Voldemort's liking. "That's plenty."

"Can I just say, thanks for having me on, Voldemort. You're alright."

"Thank you, George. I have a favour to ask you." George titled his head up. "Can you leave me an order form for Weasley Wizard Wheezes?"

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Please review!

jellybean-kitty


	7. Guest?

Mann, I can't wait for the next chapter! It's going to be maybe unexpected or completely predictable. Whatever, I can't wait for it! Hope you enjoy this one!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Had he not lost the function of his sweat glands in his rebirth, Voldemort was certain that his perspirations would have match those of an athletes or a criminal about to be trialled for death row. The latter comparison would have suited him better, sports never being his forte. This potential perspiration wasn't a result of overtaxing himself physically but it was more due to his nerves being shattered. He was about to go on air live and he still didn't know who he was about to go on air with. How was he expected to involve himself in conversation with some one he might not even have heard off and wouldn't have had time to research? Even common conversation required forward planning on his part.

However, at the present moment he had nothing. Nada. Zilch. As much data as a crashed computer. And it unnerved him to the fullest. He was directly in the public eye. A single mistake could sink his entire career before it had really started and he could see that there would be many more than just a single mistake being made. He quite liked this job. He didn't want it to end so abruptly. Well, he at the moment he didn't think he did. Who knew what would happen after the next episode fulfilled his contract? He certainly didn't and his producers wouldn't either. He was the Dark Lord, after all. Unpredictable was his middle name. Well, it was actually Humphrey but he had never told anyone that and wasn't planning on telling anyone either.

The light's went up and he knew it was time to go on stage and take his place in the chair. He turned around to glare at Larry for not giving him a warning. Then his heart began to pound harder than he'd ever felt it do so before. Really, it was unreasonable for him to be so worried. Foolish, really. He could give himself a corony or worse. Besides, what was the worst thing that could happen? Worst case scenario his guest is the dullest man alive in which case surely it would be their reputation and not his that suffered? One could only hope. He could easily get by with the life saving 'So tell me about yourself'. That would work every time.

There. He was saved. Nothing to worry about now. Find out the basics and then he could work from there. He was, afterall, a mastermind. What was a silly little interview when he had almost succeeded in global domination? The two didn't even compare to each other.

"Good evening my faithful viewers. I'm delighted to have you with me here tonight. I would say you were in for one heck of a show but since I don't know who my guest actually is I may be lying." There was laughter which confused him. He hadn't been joking. "They should be apparating in a few-"

A loud crack sounded through the air and his guest appeared, sitting comfortably in the chair with a smirk.

"Hello, master," Bellatrix Lestrange purred, sliding her hand easily over the arm of her chair. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Voldemort swallowed hard, not quite believing what his snake eyes were seeing. But, as real as he was, Bellatrix Lestrange was sitting across from him, dawning her usual all black attire and her hair slightly askew. Her smouldering eyes scorched his very soul as she watched him carefully, waiting for his first words. Licking his lips, he said, "So tell me about yourself?"

She giggled and then smiled. "Surely I don't need to tell you anything about me. I doubt there's anything you wouldn't know from the day of my birth to the day of my death."

"No, you're quite right. But, erm, you look...well, alive. How did that happen?"

Shrugging, Bellatrix replied, "Something about your past shows and my being interesting. I suppose thats what they say about pale people, right? Pale and interesting. That's me easily."

"You forgot deadly, sadistic and evil. However those are only some of your strong points," Voldemort reminded her with a slight quirk of his eyebrows. "You always were one of my most loyal and praised death eaters, though I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that. What, with you finishing off many enemies of mine with delightful cruelty to mix."

"Sure," She agreed, her voice pouty and slightly indignant, "until that vile Weasley woman killed me off just because I might have murdered one of her kids. I don't see what the problem was. She had plenty more to spare. I don't know if she and her husband are humans or rabbits the rate they reproduce. Personally I think she overreacted."

"Well, who are we to judge? Neither of us ever reproduced offspring. Apparently you become quite attached to the little creatures. Think about that Lily Potter. She was to fond of her Harry she died for him. Silly people, parents. If they wanted something to care for an nurture I don't see why they couldn't just buy a plant or a goldfish. You hardly become attached to either of them the rate they crop it and are easily replaceable. With children you have to wait another nine months and if you don't like it you can't exchange it for another one."

Bellatrix tutted. "Waste of time. Only good for carrying on your family name but even then you get the black sheep like Sirius Black who refuse to act according to the family rules and decide to _prevent_ the dark arts instead of embracing them."

Voldemort smiled sympathetically. "Luckily for me, I didn't have much of a family name apart from the horrendous Riddle family. Thankfully I quickly disposed of them without too much trouble. Unfortunately, I have no heirs. Not that they have much of a legacy to carry on but could you imagine being the son or daughter of the Dark Lord?"

"Or spouse..." Bellatrix whispered softly, looking at Voldemort. "I always did admire you, you know. I loved how you looked to your goals and nothing, not attractions, not attachments would stand in the way of it. Even your soul was a worthy sacrificed. To be that dedicated really is something of a gift, though it's not a secret that you were a very gifted wizard, especially for one who wasn't pure blood."

"Yes, well, fortune favours the brave and all that. Tell me, just out of curiosity, are you still slightly mentally unstable or has that been cured during your rebirth?"

A twinkle in her eyes told him more than words ever could. "I guess only time will tell," she said with an air of mystery that Voldemort had always found entrancing. She smiled sweetly. "I have only been on earth again for around an hour. The only thing I really do know for sure is that you're here and following in steps I never thought would belong to you."

"Thems the breaks. Are you contracted?"

"Mmm. Only for this episode. After this its my decision whether I stay here or class it as getting up from eternal slumber only as a toilet trip."

He shifted position in his chair to get himself in a comfier posture. "What do you think you'll do?"

"I think I'll see what's going on up here. It's all so dull and dreary after a while when you're dead. It'd be nice to be able to do a little bit of maiming to be honest. I've missed that."

Regretfully, Voldemort said, "It's illegal to maim people. You get arrested for it."

Bellatrix's eyes widened in surprise. "No! Is this a new thing?"

"No. Apparently it was illegal even during our rise to power. I tell you, they really should make these things clear. I mean the law today! If you don't sit down and research it it's just going to jump up and bite you when you least expect it. Do you know you can't even practice the darks arts on another person without a license?"

"What's the world coming to?" Bellatrix asked, shaking her head.

"I know," Voldemort agreed sympathetically. "It's unfortunate. There's just no place for people like us in this world. It's far too civilized for our pseudo-savage ways. What, with no public executions, corporal punishment, children's movies where if you say the word 'blasted' you get arrested, one can only imagine how kid's nowadays keep themselves entertained."

"Or don't, which is probably the case. Children are fat now. Did you see the porkers outside? Get rid of the ridiculous laws and you'll give them something to do again. After all, I remember back when I was just a little girl. I was thrilled at the very though of seeing a hanging. I would sprint all the way to the gallows and then sprint all the way back. It was _healthy_."

Both sighing, they looked at each other. "There's just no place in this unjust world for people like us," Voldemort said ruefully. "Let's face it. People always do shun the great. We should just be grateful that its the brainless crowd don't know any better. They're just too thick to be able to process our ways." Remembering where he way, he quickly added, "Of course, it goes without saying that this is excepting my viewers. They obviously have some worldly savvy about them.

A sly smile spread across Bellatrix's blood red lips. "Maybe they just need people to re-educate them. Teach them about the old ways, maybe even demonstrate them."

There was a brief mental image of the old days. He was sitting at the head of a table with all his deatheaters around him, Bellatrix at his right hand side as always, smiling secretly to herself as if she knew something no one else did. Whenever it came to using action she would always be the first to get her hands dirty and gladly so. Nothing pleased her better than striking fear into the hearts of those who opposed them and causing suffering to those who stood against them. She really was quite devoted that way.

"Should we really be talking about this on live television?" Voldemort questioned. "After all, I'm sure you're aware that many of our old enemies watch faithfully and I'm not quite sure its because of the entertainment I provide."

"They're probably just jealous. I mean, what are all those little sprogs in Dumblesnore's Army doing with their lives now? Aurors, teachers, Ministry workers. Your typical mundane jobs. But you! You were back on the earth for less than five minutes and you already had your own talk show, you're a household name and everyone loves you. In fact, you've probably gotten yourself more supporters now than when you did back in the Deatheater days!" Her eyes widened as she realised something. "In fact, I'll bet they're every bit as faithful as Deatheaters and then some, if you catch my drift."

There was a huge uproar of applause to prove that what Bellatrix had said was entirely true. Whistles and whoops rang through the air, causing Voldemort to beam with pride. Those noises were made for him, to support him. Never had his name been so cheered in all his life.

"Bellatrix, I think you may just be on to something. Even after a years of lying under the soil you're mind is just as twisted and conniving as it had been when you were alive."

She giggled like a school girl. "Oh stop. You'll make me blush."

"No, I'm serious. You know I don't kid." She did know he didn't kid. The last time some one had accused him of doing so the man had been vaporised in the blink of an eye. She always had loved the smell of burning flesh in the morning. Just as much as she liked the smell of daisies.

"So then, Master," She recrossed her legs and leaned in closer to him. "What do you have in mind?"

He grinned coyly. "How about we make like trees and leave this place. After which we'll congregate in mine. We have things to talk about, you and I."

"Indeed."

Voldemort stood up, faced his audience and rubbed his hands together. "Ladies, gentlemen and all magical creatures present. I regret to inform you that due to dastardly schemes being concocted in both my partner and I's heads, we'll have to call this show to a close early tonight. I will return next week and I guarantee you that it will blow your minds." Without wasting a second, he and Bellatrix disapperated in the flick of a wand leaving nothing behind them but two empty chairs and a contagious sense of scheming.

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jellybean-kitty


	8. The Final Guest

This is the last chapter! Hope you guys all enjoy it! Just another little reminder. Please take this with a pinch of salt. It's not supposed to be serious:P

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter I would be rolling in money, not my own filth.

The Final Guest

This was it. The moment audiences all around the world – yes, indeed around the world – had been waiting for. Mass speculation and gossip (spread by the Daily Prophet with great pride) had all come down to this point. Who was the last guest on his show before he finished his contract?

There had been rumours that it would be Harry Potter, flying in on the latest broomstick after doing auror work in Australia with enchanted bandicoots. There had also been rumours that (since people were being resurrected left right and centre in a plot line that won't be explained since there is no real explanation except to fit in with the story) Dumbledore would be the next guest. An even more incredulous rumour spoke of Tom Riddle Snr making a guest appearance to have a heart to heart with his estranged son. Alas, there had been no confirmation of any of these wild allegations.

Until now.

Voldemort grinned, a sight that twenty years ago would have made even the most happy of children cry their eyes up but now was a much loved and replicated expression. "My dearest viewers, both live and at home. I'm sure you're all dying to know about my next guest but first I have a message from security. Could the owner of the Nimbus 3000, license W!ZURD please move their broomstick off the double pink lines or it will be towed." There was shuffling in the audience and an audibly angry grumble from what sounded like a dwarf. "Thanks for your patience. Could my next guest please join me. I'll give you a clue as to who he is. His first name rhymes with marry and his surname's a type of job."

There was a huge uproar of applause and screams which quickly died down as the strange figure of an overweight middle aged man wearing a grease stained grey shirt appeared at the entrance.

Voldemort groaned inwardly and gave the tech guy a look that would have made any mortal man scream. Larry, however, having just ate a pizza and was happily sedated by his cheese overload, was oblivious. "Larry, don't you think you might be a little confused. You're not exactly who we're all expected."

A light clicked on somewhere in that balding head. "But you said a guy whose name rhymes with marry, right? Larry rhymes with marry. And a surname as a type of job. Well, my surname's cook!"

"I meant Harry Potter you imbecile."

A dejected looking Larry stepped to the side and behind him, wearing contact lenses instead of glasses and looked incredibly dashing, was Harry Potter. He gave the crowd a wave and all the females in the front rows fainted. Voldemort sniffed the air suspiciously and sensed a hint of 'Eau de Sex Bomb', a recent invention of the Weasley Wizard Wheezes range of scents for him and her. Voldemort knew as he had just bought the same fragrance only last week.

Then Harry turned to face Voldemort with a look so fierce electricity flew from his eyes. Voldemort made a mental note to tell Larry to make sure he fixed that loose cable behind Harry so such illusions weren't possible. Seriously, it made Harry look more threatening that what he really was. He knew. He had duelled him on several occasions and each time was surprised that the weedy little kid could put up such a fight. In all fairness, he was no longer weedy. He was well built, though not too musclular. The days of working as an auror in exotic places had tanned his face and what he could see of his arms and he had a rugged handsomeness that was reminiscent of his youth. Well, the youth that had returned to him.

"Now, now, Harry. Let's not meet as enemies but as-"

"Cut the crap, Voldemort," Harry hissed. "I'm only playing this role so you'll let Ginny out of the broomstick cupboard."

"Oh really?" Voldemort returned. "And am I to believe that you just so happened to come by that scent by accident. Perhaps you mistook it for 'Eau de Self-Righteous Hypocrite'?"

Harry looked confused. "There's no such scent."

"I know. It was dry wit."

"Oh. I've never really understood dry wit. I'm a very literal guy."

"I see. But back to my original question. If you're so worried about Ginny and so reluctant to be here why are you wearing your finest and sporting an aftershave that would drive the audience wild? Am I to believe you just came across these things accidentally _after _we kidnapped your wife?"

Harry was silent for a few minutes. "Yes."

"Well I don't believe you."

"Don't then."

"Fine."

"Fine."

The two men said nothing for a full thirty seconds while the audience held their breath. Eventually, Voldemort broke their unspoken vow of silence. "You know the whole world will think you're immature throwing a hissy fit like you are now. Seriously. Just because I might have killed your parents and various friends and then tried to kill you. Do you have to hold such a grudge. For God's sake get over it! It was more than twenty years ago when this whole thing started! For most of it you weren't even potty trained!"

There was moment of contemplation over this. Finally, Harry replied with, "Geez, that _is _long ago. But I don't forgive you for what you've done!"

"I'm not asking you to but if you want to be petty go right ahead. I've got a chat show to host here and I can't very well do it if we're arguing like a bunch of school girls. So please. For the next however many minutes we have left can we just get along. Please?"

Harry looked at the hopeful audience and then rolled his eyes. "I suppose so. Just until the end of this show."

"Good. Now I've heard that you've been a highly successful auror. Tell me about your recent exploits. Am I right in saying you've just apparated in from Australia?"

"Yeah, actually. I was in Melbourne over the past few weeks while I battled with hexed bandicoots. Some jaded ex-husband of a witch had cast a spell on all the bandicoots in their farm so that they breathed fire and flatulated poisonous gas. Personally I can't tell the difference between the two types of farts but there you go. He caused hundreds of galleons worth of damage but its okay. He's in custody now."

"I see. Must have been quite a challenge for you."

"Nah," Harry replied with a wave of his hand. "I've battled worse. I once had to single-handedly take on a whole flock of trolls who had been let loose by mistake on a village of muggles. I was actually on vacation at the time but when duty calls you know?"

"I know."

"Plus with there being no Dark Wizards about anymore we're having to take on more menial jobs. I've not had a proper dual on over a year. I've had to act as a bodyguard to model Fleur Delacour which wasn't actually all that bad though I'd have expected Bill to be there instead of me."

"And where was Bill?"

"Babysitting."

"I see. Children, huh. Who would have them?"

"I did!" Harry replied indignantly.

"Well that's nice," Voldemort said, forcing a grin onto his face. "For you. Personally, I don't have time for spawning from my loins. I'm much to busy. That's not to say I don't partake in the pastime. I just make sure no consequences will result from it."

"Oh!" Harry cried with sudden interest. "You and Bellatrix, huh? Is she...you know..." He grinned devilishly and made an ape-like noise.

"Better. She's...well..." Voldemort impersonated a neigh which shot Harry's eyebrows up.

"Oh you dog."

"Tell me about it."

"No, _you _ tell _me _about it."

"Very well. How about we go into more detail over a round of beer. My treat."

"When?"

"After the show." Voldemort checked his watch. "Actually, I've another thing I wanted to talk to you about. Bellatrix and I have been...talking and we've put together a little plan. I don't suppose you're interested?"

"Explain," Harry asked in a voice that told Voldemort her was.

"First of all, how would you like to be worshipped like a God and have power beyond your wildest dreams?" He leaned in and smirked. "Together, we could rule the world."

Harry's eyes widened. "You don't mean-I mean you're not...Are you planning on building an army again?"

"Lord no, Harry. I'm talking about having a second season with you as my co-host. Interested?"

Grinning, Harry shook Voldemort's hand. "You've got yourself a deal. How's about a second round of beer on me and we can talk business."

They stood up, turned to the audience and bowed deeply. "Thank you very much for all your support. I will return for another season this time with Harry by my side. Join me then. Good night and God bless."

He gestured for Harry to walk on before him and he followed for a few steps and then stopped. "Oh! Harry?" He called.

"Yeah?" Harry called over his shoulder.

"Just one other thing." In the blink of an eye, Voldemort whipped out his wand. "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry turned just in time to see the power spell be unleashed from his nemesis' wand and fly in his direction. He squeezed his eyes shut and saw his life flash behind his eyelids. Then he frowned. He wasn't aware that there was what sounded like audience laughter all throughout his life. No, in fact he was certain there was no noise when Dumbledore died. He opened his eyes to find out what was happening to mess up his flashbacks and realised it was Voldemort's audience. They were laughing. Why were they laughing? He's just been killed by a fiendish wizard. What was funny about that? He looked down at his trousers to see if he had maybe wet himself in the process but he was dry as a bone. He looked to Voldemort for an explanation and saw that he too was chuckling.

"Got you!" Voldemort cried, waving a fake wand in Harry's direction. "Dear me, you should have seen your face. Priceless!"

Smiling sheepishly, Harry said, "You owe me two rounds of beer for that."

"That I do," Voldemort replied. "That I do."

* * *

The End

* * *

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